FOURTEEN
FROM THE WINDOW, I swung over to the porch roof. I took the drinks from him, set them down, and climbed onto the main roof. By the time I was there, Rafe was on the porch roof, holding the drinks up to me. I grabbed them and he clambered up. Then I stood, carefully, and walked to my usual place—the flatter roof on the storage space above the garage.
Rafe sat beside me. I handed him his beer and looked out into the dark forest. As I inhaled the smell of it, I closed my eyes and relaxed, but I didn’t feel that usual slow stream of energy seeping in. Maybe it was too late for that and I was too tired. If anything, the energy seemed to be flowing out, leaving me blissfully relaxed, even a little light-headed.
When I glanced over at Rafe, he was staring into the night, sipping his beer, looking just as calm, happy even. Neither of us said a word, but it wasn’t an awkward silence. Just … nice.
After a few minutes, he said, “Better not let my thirty minutes slip away, huh?”
“I’m not wearing a watch.”
His grin sparked at that, and I felt this tingle in my gut, a slow heat, as if there was more than Coke in my glass. I glanced away and took a gulp. It didn’t help. I felt weirdly disconnected. Like when a summer boy sneaked rum into my Coke on our first and last date. I knew what booze tasted like now, though, and my pop was fine.
“So, you wanted to get to know me …” he said.
I laughed, and the fuzzy feeling evaporated. “Um, no, I don’t think I ever said that.”
“Close enough. Here’s your chance. Ask me anything and I’ll reply with relative honesty.”
“Relative?”
“I’m the mysterious new guy in town. You like that. You just won’t admit it. So, yes, relative honesty. Ask me anything.”
“Fine. What’s the scariest thing you’ve ever done?”
He laughed. “Wow. Straight for the jugular.” He took a deep breath. “Okay. Scariest thing? Scariest thing I’ve ever gone through was my mom dying. But you said scariest thing I’ve done. That would be coming here. I’m used to moving, like I said. But this was different. I’m not a legal immigrant, obviously, but we needed to get away, and we knew we’d inherited this cabin, so we had to take the chance and hope nobody asked too many questions.”
“You had to get away because of Annie. Because you were afraid she’d lose custody of you.”
“Partly, and partly …” He chugged his beer, as if shoring up his nerve. “The scariest thing I’ve ever done was coming here, and the dumbest thing I’ve ever done was the reason I had to.”
After a minute of silence, I said, “Are you going to tell me or was that just a tease?”
I expected a smile. Instead, he drained the rest of his beer in one long, almost desperate swallow.
“I took money from the wrong people,” he said.
I stiffened, certain he was pulling his bad boy crap again. But he’d gone very still, watching me, his eyes anxious, like he wished he could take the words back but was glad he couldn’t.
I’d asked for honesty. He’d given it, more than he should, because he wanted to earn my trust, wanted it badly enough to offer this. I wondered why, but I couldn’t seem to hold on to the thought, couldn’t seem to care as that lazy, drifting feeling returned.
I knew he was waiting for me to say something. But what? I was dying to ask what he’d done, but even for me, being that blunt crossed a line.
“So I was wrong,” I finally said. “You are a bad ass.”
He laughed at that, a long whoosh of relieved laughter, the spark returning to his eyes. “That’s right. I’ve earned my rep the hard way. I’m as bad as they come.”
He leaned in, until his breath tickled my hair. “Seriously? That’s the worst thing I’ve ever done, as well as the dumbest. Otherwise, I’m strictly minor league.”
He lifted the empty beer bottle. “First drink I’ve had in about six months. I’ve been drunk once in my life. It was after my mom died. I went to a party, and I started drinking, and I didn’t stop until I woke up covered in puke. Which, let me tell you, is a serious turn-on for girls.”
“I bet.”
“I’ve smoked pot once.” He leaned in again and whispered, “You’ll notice a lot of firsts and lasts in this confession.” He set his empty bottle aside. “I was fourteen, in a new place, trying to make friends. Annie caught me. Dragged me away and said if she ever caught me doing that again, she’d tell Mom, who was sick then, so it was the last thing she needed. I found new friends.”
He shifted, getting a little closer but subtly, like he was only restless. “What else? I’ve shoplifted. Small stuff, years ago. Another new school, more bad choices in friends. You’ll notice a lot of that pattern, too. I almost broke into a house once. A guy told me this other kid swiped his iPod and he wanted me to get it back. I almost fell for it. At least he bothered lying to me. Most times, kids just figured I’d be happy to help them do something illegal.”
“Because you look like the type?”
“Yeah, but not in the way you mean. A lot of the places we went—small towns and that—were very white. You’re lucky here. I mean, I’m sure you get some problems, but you’re …”
“Sheltered.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“It’s okay. I know I am. When I leave Salmon Creek, there’s a distinct change in tone.” I motioned to his arm, now covered by his jacket. “I saw your tattoo. Hopi, isn’t it? The crow mother?”
“Very good. Yeah, Mom was Hopi. Annie and I got the tattoos after she died.”
He went quiet, then snapped out of it and tugged his jacket sleeve up to give me a better look. It was a gorgeous tattoo. Before he pulled the sleeve down, I touched the cat’s-eye bracelet.
“I like that,” I said. “From a girlfriend?”
“Looks like something a girl would give a guy? Right idea, wrong person. It was from my mom. Last gift before she died.” Again that quiet grief threatened to fall. Again he shook it off. “Anyway, so, yes, Mom was Native and my father was, apparently, Latino. So kids would try to get me to commit their criminal acts for them, either figuring I’m a dumb Indian who needed money for booze or a dumb Mexican who needed it for dope. Either way, they were sure I was dumb enough to do something illegal.” A pause, then a crooked smile. “And, apparently, they were right.”
Another minute of silence. The question was hanging there: What did you do? Instead I said, “Are you … okay?”
“You mean, are we in danger of federal marshals barreling through the woods with a warrant for my arrest? Nah. It wasn’t like that. I just … After our mom died, we didn’t have as much money as she thought we did, because Annie and I had sneaked into her savings to get stuff for her. Medicine, food she liked, whatever. It wasn’t bad at first. Annie was working. Two jobs sometimes, and selling her sculptures on the side. Mom was a carver, and Annie got the artistic genes. I wanted to quit school and work, so she could concentrate on her art, but she wouldn’t let me. She helped me get a parttime job, though, so I felt better about it.”
I thought of the girl I’d met. Tried to imagine her as the big sister who’d dragged her brother away from pot-smoking friends, wouldn’t let him quit school, took care of him. It sounded like he was talking about a completely different person. I guess, in some ways, he was.
“And then the accident happened,” I said.
“Yeah. The damage … it took a while to develop. At first Annie could work, but then, not so much. She’s just … she’s not interested in stuff like that anymore. Out here, she’d be happy to wander around the woods all day, find a stream when she’s thirsty, eat berries when she’s hungry, nap when she’s tired.”
“So you needed money.”
He nodded and looked out over the forest. “Annie knew we needed money. She still understood that. She met these guys and they offered her some, and the old Annie—she would have told them to go to hell, but she’s not like that anymore and …” He kept his gaze straight ahead, face hard. “I got there just in time, and I—I didn’t want to ever have to worry about that again. So there were these other guys, drug guys. A buddy of mine was a runner for them. I got him talking, found out they were doing a deal and had money to pay for it, so I …”
“Helped yourself.”
“Yeah. Seemed easy. And it was. Only I found out later why it was so easy—because those guys were connected and no one else was stupid enough to rip them off. Until I came along.” He smiled, but it faltered and finally fell. “And, having won thirty minutes of your time, I think I just gave you thirty minutes of reasons to run the other way as fast as you can.”
“I don’t run away.”
He looked at me, startled, and what I saw in his eyes was so raw that my breath caught and all I could do was sit there, staring at him, that weird floating feeling trickling through my veins.
“That wasn’t what I meant to talk about,” he said, his voice low. “I really wanted to impress you, Maya.”
“You did.”
I leaned forward and kissed him. His eyes widened, then his lips parted and he kissed me back, mouth warm and firm against mine and that floating feeling washed over me and through me, and it was so amazing that when it ended, I just stayed there, my face so close to his I could feel his breath, see those incredible amber eyes, and that was all I could see, all I wanted to see.
We hung there, face-to-face, just staring, then he said, “Yes?” and I said, “Yes,” and he kissed me again, and it was no awkward, hesitant, first-date kiss. It started at third date, deep and hungry, bodies colliding, and I’d like to say he started it but I honestly wasn’t sure.
This tiny voice in my head screamed “Slow down!” but it was so small and so faint that I could barely hear it and I didn’t want to. All I felt was Rafe’s mouth on mine, his arms around me, his body against me, and I didn’t care about anything else. It was like jumping from a cliff, a terrifying, exhilarating, mind-blowing rush, and I didn’t want it to end, didn’t care where it led, only wanted to follow.
I could feel his heart beating, and I could hear it, pounding. I even swore I could smell him, just him. The world seemed to spin and fade, and I drifted in and out, and that voice kept saying that something was wrong, something was very wrong, but I didn’t care.
One minute we were sitting up, making out. The next we were lying on the roof, and I was on top of him, and I didn’t know how I got there. I was kissing him and then, all of a sudden, I wasn’t. He was holding my face in his hands, poised above his, as he panted softly, his pupils so huge I could drown in them.
“Hate to ask,” he said, struggling for breath. “How much did you drink?”
“Nothing. Just Coke.”
“Oh.”
He held me there another moment, searching my gaze, his breath coming in soft puffs, fingers in my hair, looking like he was struggling to hold me there, away from him. I strained against his hands, and he said, “Okay,” hesitantly, like he wasn’t sure it was okay. Then he kissed me again deep and hard, like he didn’t care if it was okay.
Only it wasn’t the same now. His hesitation kept playing in my head, and that little voice got louder until finally I heard myself saying it aloud, “Something’s wrong.”
“It’s all right,” he murmured. “I won’t try anything. Just this, okay?” His mouth lowered to mine. “Just this.”
He kissed me, and I realized he was on top of me now and I didn’t remember that happening. I pulled away, saying louder, “Something’s wrong.” He blinked, hard, like he was clearing his head, and I was suddenly really aware of him, on top of me, holding me down and I panicked, struggling up so fast my elbow caught him in the chin, and he fell back.
I looked around. Everything was hazy. I struggled to my feet, blinking hard, feeling like I’d just stepped off a merry-go-round.
“Maya?”
Rafe’s voice seemed distant and distorted and I said again, “Something’s wrong,” but the words came out mumbled and thick.
I looked down at my empty Coke glass. I remembered Rafe handing it to me at the sofa. Remembered him offering to carry it.
“Oh God,” I whispered.
He stepped toward me. I stumbled back, and he lunged to grab me, calling “Maya!” as I scrambled down the roof. The world kept spinning and I couldn’t focus, couldn’t think, could only see Rafe coming at me, lips parted in words I didn’t hear. I inched back until I was at the edge. Then I crouched and jumped and as I did, I realized what I’d done, saw the ground rushing up and then—
Thump. I landed in a crouch, gasping as pain slammed through my legs. I blinked hard, certain I was hallucinating. I couldn’t possibly have leaped off a two-story roof and landed on my feet. I heard a shout and saw Rafe dangling over the edge. He hit the ground and turned toward me. My heart jammed into my throat and I stumbled back, saying, “No!”
“Maya?”
Sam jogged around the corner. I stepped toward her, but my legs wouldn’t hold me and I went down, landing on all fours, hearing the thump of running feet from both sides, Rafe and Sam.
“Stay away from her,” Sam said, then yelled. “Daniel!”
“I didn’t—” Rafe began. “Whatever happened, it wasn’t me.”
More running footsteps. Heavy. Daniel.
“Maya?” The footsteps picked up speed. “What’s going—?”
“My drink,” I whispered as Sam crouched beside me. “Something in my drink.”
A bone-crunching crack. Then a thump as Rafe hit the ground beside me. I scrambled back. Nicole helped me to my feet, and pulled me out of the way as Daniel bore down on Rafe, his face livid.
“Get up,” Daniel said.
Rafe stayed down, lifting his hands. “If Maya’s been dosed—”
“If? If? Are you saying she’s faking it?”
“No. Obviously something happened. I mean maybe her drink was spiked. But I had nothing to—”
“Get up!”
Rafe didn’t. Sam stepped behind him, blocking his escape.
“Go ahead,” Sam said. “Stomp him.”
Daniel continued forward. “Get up, you son of a bitch.”
“Screw that,” Sam said. “Hell, if he does get up, I’ll hold him for you.”
“Stay out of this,” Daniel said.
“Just leave him,” I said, my voice still thick, the world still tilting. “Let him go.”
Daniel didn’t seem to hear me and kept bearing down on Rafe. I staggered forward to stop him, but now it was Corey taking my arm and pulling me back.
“Daniel,” I said. “Don’t—”
Branches crackled. A blur burst from the forest. It charged so fast all I could see was that blur. Then it jumped between Rafe and Daniel.
A cougar. Not Marv or the new tom, but a female, planted between them, facing Daniel, lips curled back. She let out a snarl. I jerked forward. Corey caught me and held my arm.
I’m not exactly sure what happened next. I faded again, everything sliding in and out of focus, no matter how hard I struggled to stay alert, heart pounding at seeing that cougar so close to Daniel, the house and safety too far away.
I remember the cat snarling. I remember Daniel backing up. And I remember Rafe, lying on the ground, saying, “It’s okay. It’s okay,” over and over in this calm voice, completely calm, like he didn’t even see the cougar. The cat backed up, getting closer and closer to Rafe and he didn’t move a muscle and I remember thinking, “She’s protecting him,” which was crazy, but that’s what I thought.
Then the world blinked, and my legs gave way. As I went down, Daniel ran toward me, and I opened my mouth to shout for him not to turn his back on the cat, but she was already twisting away.
I don’t remember anything else.
No, that’s a lie. I remember one more thing. I remember the cougar turning away and I remember what I saw on her flank. A dark patch of fur in the shape of a paw print.